


Promise Me

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fenhawke Week, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, One Shot, POV Fenris, Red Hawke, Romance, Sexual Content, non-graphic mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After turning down a ravishing lady at the Hanged Man, Fenris returns to his cold mansion alone and confused by his own actions. However, a certain friend decides to follow him, concerned by his sudden departure. Both drunk and naturally abrasive, Fenris does not take kindly to Hawke's persistent questions and snaps, revealing more in his frustration than he had ever intended. But it was her response to his self-loathing and insecurities that truly took the elf by surprise, and it was her gentle hand that guided him to a place he believed to be long out of his reach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

                Fenris swallowed as the honey light made the walls of the room glow with diffused softness. Normally he wouldn't light candles, even at night. He disliked the heat; the burn of the flame should he get too close. The pain of wax as it made contact with skin, only to dry moments later and flake off, leaving no trace...

                He brought a hand to his head, raking his fingers through his snowy hair. The throbbing in his skull was lessening to a dull ache, but occasionally he would experience a pang of dizziness that churned his stomach. He hadn't even drank that much...

                " _Fenris_? _You in there?_ " A muffled voice sounded from just outside his room, and his eyes widened slightly. _What was she doing here_?

                "... Yes?" he replied uncertainly, getting up and moving to open the door. As he half emerged, Hawke met his gaze, and for the first time he saw something genuine in those electric-blue eyes. Eyes that had captivated him since the first time he looked into them back in the alienage. His saviour. His curse. He saw worry.

                "I just... Are you all right?" She asked, folding her arms the way she always did, especially when she was showing concern for someone other than herself. It was almost like a self-defence mechanism; a way to counter her empathy by closing herself off physically. Fenris had to admit, he was surprised by the question. She didn't care about anyone but herself. She'd declared it repeatedly to make sure no one forgot.

                "I'm fine..." He said slowly, his gaze careful as he regarded her. "... Why?"

                She shrugged, gesturing over her shoulder with her head, "You just seemed... off. Back at the tavern..."

                He swallowed, feeling his stomach knot at the memory. He wasn't... _ashamed_ , was he? He had nothing to be ashamed about. Surely he wasn't the first man to turn down a woman's advances. That was impossible. Then why did he feel so humiliated?

                "Oh." Was all he managed to say, feeling defensive all of a sudden. "What about it?"

                The short-haired woman raised an eyebrow, and he watched how it arched so elegantly above her eye. Every move she made... _captivated_ him. It wasn't healthy.

                "Nothing, nothing..." she replied absently, "It was just _unusual_. You wouldn't see Isabela or even Anders turn down someone like _that_ lady."

                "She was no lady." He grunted suddenly, and immediately regretted the outburst. He was telling the truth though. To him, a lady wasn't restricted to someone who dressed in frilled clothes and wore expensive oils on her skin. Who tried to forcefully filled his lungs with the smell of stale whisky and smoke. He repressed a shudder at the memory, fully aware of the company he was in and not wanting to draw more attention to himself.

                "Seemed feminine enough to me." Hawke smirked, leaning on the door frame and eyeing him curiously. "Okay, enough stalling. I have to ask. Are you not..." she cleared her throat awkwardly. "... _attracted_ to women? Because that's completely fine, you know."

                That question caught Fenris utterly off-guard, and he took a step back without even realising. It didn't help that the room was swaying around him either.

                "W-what? No, I _am_." He stammered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. _If only she knew..._

                "Oh. Then what was it? Her face?" She pressed, the alcohol in her own system seeming to fuel her curiosity as she watched Fenris's discomfort grow. When he shook his head, she frowned. "Her... _shape_? Her voice?"  

                "It's not like that..." he countered weakly, wishing that she would just drop it. "... I just... it wasn't that. Do we really need to talk about this?"

                Hawke's eyes widened as she watched him shift uncomfortably.

                "Maker's breath... Have you never been _with_ someone before?"

                Fenris felt his mouth go dry. "I... _What_? Why would you...?"

                Hawke shook her head in amazement, "I can't believe it. All this time you were just nervous because you're a virgin! I'm surprised though; someone like you--"

                "--That's not it!" He interrupted, anger suddenly filling him as he watched her lounge in his doorway. Aware that his voice carried loudly throughout the empty mansion, he lowered it carefully. "I... I _have_... before... It's just..."

                He groaned, walking back into his room as he ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. He didn't want _this_. The last thing he wanted to remember now was _this_.

                "Then... what's the issue?" Hawke prompted, closing the door and walking in slightly to lean against a dresser on the back wall. "Every man I've ever met would jump at the opportunities you have on a daily basis. You're missing out, you know. You should just relax and enjoy yourself every now and then. Might even do you some good to l _oosen up_  a bit."  
                Fenris laughed bitterly at that, his head feeling odd and cloudy. Maybe he _had_ drunk too much...

                " _Enjoy_ it?" He bit back, the venom in his voice clear as day. That made Hawke tilt her head quizzically.

                "Who doesn't enjoy sex?" She asked bluntly, and he felt his face grow hot again. He just didn't have the kind of confidence to discuss these things so openly; especially not with her, as tactless as she was. However, while his face was warm, his hands were cold and clammy. The evenings were not bitter at that time of year, so why was he shaking?

                "Not everyone does." He replied shortly, but that wasn't good enough for Hawke. She was just watching him, those eyes seeming to bore into his soul and see right through him. She said nothing, but he felt the disbelief. The jarring expectation for him to elaborate. Finally, he snapped under the imaginary pressure.

                " _What_? _Why_ are you looking at me like that?" He demanded, unsure where this anger was coming from or why he was directing it at her. "You say you don't understand why I don't enjoy it? Come on, Hawke; you're smarter than _that_. You know what I was. What... maybe what I still _am_."

                The concept seemed to baffle his mage companion, but she again remained silent. Heart thumping wildly, Fenris continued. He couldn't stop now. What he didn't realise was just how much she understood that, and how she was just willing to let him speak. This conversation had been a long time coming.

                "How do you take pleasure from being used? That's all it is. Having someone take something that belongs to you because _they_ _can_."

                He hadn't even noticed when Hawke's gaze changed. When those eyes once filled with curiosity seem to melt away into a volatile mixture of sadness and anger. Right then, he didn't care; it just made him even more defensive.

                "Don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity. I don't need _this,_ and I don't need whatever those _people_ have offered up until now. Why would I ever want that again? How come--"

                "-- So you say 'no' because... you _can_?" Hawke interjected his rage softly, and those words stopped Fenris mid-sentence. His voice was trapped in his throat, he could only watch as Hawke spoke, her brow furrowed.

                "So that's what you think it is. Just... pain? Being used?" She was genuinely asking; there was no trace of mocking or derision like there usually was. Fenris didn't answer; he couldn't even look at her. Of course that's what he thought it was. He didn't know anything else. What was she even doing there with him? A slave like him - even an ex-slave - wasn't worth her time, yet alone her concern.

                "Fenris, look at me. _Please_."

                He heard her footsteps approach him, and he slowly raised his confused eyes to meet hers. She was about a metre away from him now, and kept that distance, afraid that if she came any closer she would lose him. He hated himself for appearing so skittish.

                "It doesn't have to be like that, you know." She said softly, as though trying to coax him from his fears with as much kindness as she could muster. "Not everyone is like... _are_ like the people you knew. Maybe if you gave them the chance...?"

                "I... I want to, Hawke... but I _can't_." He whispered, lowering himself onto the edge of his bed and resting his head in his hands. "I don't think... What if I _couldn't_? I can't just tell them to stop."

                "Yes, you _can_." She pressed, but he shook his head.

                "No, I _can't_. Why would that work now?" He murmured, the words empty on his breath.

                He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into his hair as images assailed his already addled mind. He tried to force them away; to shut them out like he usually did. He couldn't. He could see his face, looking down at him. Those eyes. The ones that gazed down at him but didn't really _see_. Didn't see what he was doing to him. A young, naive Fenris kept telling himself that over and over again for years. They _couldn't_ have seen... Couldn't have _known_...

                "Hey, stay here - with _me_." Her voice was so soft that he barely heard it as he struggled to control the terror in his veins. His markings burned. His head ached. However, her words resonated in his mind, luring him from his turmoil.

                "... _What_?"

                "The pain; those things you said," she continued slowly, watching him with careful patience, "it doesn't have to be that way."           

                Fenris sighed, feeling exhausted as the memories began to subside from behind his closed eyes. "Maybe... maybe it doesn't. But how can I know?"

                He knew how he could know. He knew perfectly well. There was only one thing left in the world that he cared about. But... there was no way she would...  
                "Do you trust me?"

                His eyes flew open at that, and he raised his head suddenly to look right at her, simultaneously confused and alarmed. _How could she even ask that?_

                "Of course I do, Hawke. Why would you--?"

                His breath caught in his throat as he realised all of a sudden how close she was. She was right in front of him, and slowly lowered herself so she was kneeling on the ground, her eyes almost level with his. He could smell the scent of her hair; a perfect mix of spices and ash. It was earthy and exotic yet... warm? He couldn't begin to explain it. Nothing about her could be explained by mere words; not for him. Words just didn't do her justice.

                "Fenris..." she breathed, her voice soft as she reached out and took his hands in hers. Her skin was smooth on top, yet toughened on the palm and fingertips. Hands of a fighter. How often had those fingers been stained with blood, he wondered. Certainly no more than his own.

                 "... Will you let me show you?"

                He swallowed, feeling light-headed. "Show me what?"

                "How it _should_ be." She continued, her gaze tender and... no, it couldn't be...

                ... _Loving_?

                Unable to speak, Fenris just nodded, terrified that at any moment he would wake up. That her perfect face, with that swipe over her nose, would suddenly melt away like it had so many times in his dreams that turned to nightmares. That she would become _him_.

                But she didn't. A slight smile played on her face as she leant in, her lips gently meeting his in a kiss so soft that he could barely believe it was from Hawke. Maybe it was the wine? Maybe it wasn't... Without even realising, he felt himself raise his hand and knot his fingers in her short ebony hair, holding her close. Afraid to let her go. Her warmth was life-giving against his cold skin.

                She deepened the kiss, her tongue probing gently at his lips, seeking permission. He hesitated slightly, but conceded, allowing her warm tongue to explore his mouth. He felt her hand caress the side of his face, gently moving behind his head to rub his neck sensually. He bit back a moan, wanting to lean into her touch but not wanting to break the kiss. He'd been waiting so long for this; it didn't seem real. How could something so perfect be happening; _truly_ happening?

                After a moment, she drew back slightly, and he had to restrain himself from chasing her lips. Breathless, he watched her, the smoulder of her crystal eyes turning his knees to water. Slowly, she reached forward, her hands now on his chest. She pushed softly, and he let her lean him back so that he was lying on the mattress. Smiling playfully, she reached up and unbound her tunic, letting it hang open freely. He could barely look at her, she was so breathtaking. She crawled on top of him, straddling his torso and gazing down, her raven hair catching the candlelight like a onyx halo as it fell slightly over her eyes. Softly, she leaned forward, kissing his jaw, his neck, his throat...

                ... Fenris struggled to repress a shudder of pleasure as she continued to kiss down his throat, her hands unbuttoning his shirt slowly. _Carefully_. However, Fenris was so caught up in the sensations that he barely even noticed as the last button was undone. His torso was shuddering as he breathed, the lean muscle rising and falling almost in time with her fluttering kisses. It was already different. He'd never had someone do such things to _him_ before...

                He felt her lips leave him, and opened eyes that he hadn't realise he'd closed. She was sitting above him now, taking in his body as he lay beneath her on the soft bed. He watched silently as those gemstone eyes drifted over his now exposed torso, and felt a sting of humiliation when they hovered on the marks that marred his skin. Gently, he felt her fingertips ghost along the pale lines; being careful to touch near them, but not make direct contact. Regardless, he flinched slightly, turning his head away almost without realising. _Why was she here? He was nothing to her; just a toy that had been used, damaged and cast aside. What could she possibly see in him?_

                "You're..." She began, but he shook his head, swallowing anxiously.

                "Don't..." he begged, feeling like his chest was being crushed by an unseen force. _You're disgusting. You're weak. You're pathetic._

                "... _Beautiful_." She said suddenly, as though the revelation had struck her breathless. Fenris blinked, taken aback. _What?_ He felt a weak smile touch his lips, nervous and somewhat surprised.

                " _Beautiful_? Hmph. That's a first." He commented shakily, but she just smiled and he felt his heart melt before it. That imaginary weight that had rested on his chest lifted almost instantly, and she leaned forward and hovered just above his head, her lips only centimetres from his.

                "Well then lucky me," she whispered, her voice like honey, "it seems the rest of the world is blind."

                "Hmm...  _I'm_ the lucky one." He smiled as she faltered, surprised. He couldn't stop himself, he reached up, drawing her close as he pressed his lips to hers once more, tasting her sweet mouth that was a mix of mead and dried fruit. He felt torn as their tongues entwined almost frantically. He _wanted_ her; _Maker_ , he didn't think he'd ever wanted anything _more_. But at the same time...

                As they kissed, he felt her hands on his torso, slowly working their way down past his chest. They ghosted over his abdominals, her hands tracing the muscle soothingly, taking in every movement as he breathed in shortened gasps. Her face was so close; his eyes were shut, and he felt her hands reach for the band of his breeches...

                Almost instantly, the breath caught in his throat, as though someone had physically seized it. The sensation caught him off guard, sending his mind into a panic. However, despite his mind's desperation, his body felt frozen; paralysed by both fear and shock as those hands moved lower, gently... no, _hungrily_ pulling at his clothing. The body pressed down on him, pinning him to the hard bed; this was the only time he actually got to lay on a bed. He wanted to cry out; to throw the body off, but he knew it would be _much_ worse if he did. He had done it before. He _could_ do it now, but he was too afraid. All he could do was lie there and wait for it to be over; the hands continued to explore. He felt his own grasp desperately at the sheets, seeking anything to clutch; to hold on to. _Make it end..._

                "Fenris..." his voice was deep; mocking. He spoke as though he was a pet; his play-thing. _Maker_ he wanted to kill him! He knew he couldn't. He was nothing. He would be put to death. But did he really want to live like this?

                "Fenris; look at me." _Slave,_ _don't you dare ignore me._

                His eyes were squeezed shut; he wouldn't look at him. He refused. That man already had what he wanted, why did he need to play these games too? He just wanted those hands to stop...

                ... his brow flickered. _Where were the hands?_ How come they weren't pressing onwards; weren't continuing to tear off his clothes? Why couldn't he feel them--

                -- _there._ He felt them again, but it was... different. They were running through his hair, gently stroking it in a way that was almost... comforting? No. It couldn't be. This was just another one of his sick games. A trick to get him to lower his guard.

                "Fenris, hey... _Please_ , look at me."

                Fenris's heart stuttered. _Please?_ I-it couldn't be him... he would never...

                With all the willpower he could muster, Fenris forced himself to open his eyes, and he saw his panicked stare reflected back in worried blue pools. He could feel his skin now; it was drenched in a cold sweat. His arms ached from clenching the soft sheets, almost tearing through them with his desperate fingers.

                Fingers... he felt hers in his hair, caressing him so carefully as though he might break. A part of him hated himself for being so weak, but a shameful part of him longed for that kind of gentleness.

                "H-Hawke..." he stammered, but he broke her gaze, lifting his hand to hide his face from hers. To cover his shame. "I'm... I'm _sorry_... I..."

                "No," she declared simply, her hand leaving his hair to take his wrist gently, "don't be. There's only one person who should be sorry for this, and it certainly isn't you."

                He allowed her to guide his arm as she raised it and brought his hand to her cheek, her thumb rubbing soothing circles onto his palm as she moved and pressed it against her lips.

                "If you want me to stop, you just need to say so, okay?" She said, her voice serious, but her eyes kind. " _Promise_ me."

                He could barely manage the nod he gave her. He had never experienced this kind of tenderness; this kind of trust. And the last person he ever really expected it from was Hawke; a mage, renowned for her lack of patience and short temper. But there she was, slowly tracing her hands across his skin with a kind of reverence. He didn't know what to think, and a part of him didn't care. All he knew is that she was here, and that he trusted her with every fibre of his being. If anyone could try to piece him back together, it was her.

                Slowly, she returned to his waistband, keeping a close eye on him as she raised it slightly. Fenris swallowed, feeling his face grow hot, but not like before. Not in fear. She was looking him right in the eyes, and he found himself trapped in her gaze. Right then, he couldn't forget it was her above him even if he wanted to - and he certainly didn't. He barely noticed as she slipped her hand inside his breeches, her fingertips trailing lightly across his pelvic bone.

                Fenris groaned, her touch tantalising as he arched upwards slightly. She smiled and leaned forward again, once again claiming his lips. This time Fenris reached up, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close as they kissed. He felt her hand work its way further down until it was finally resting upon his heat. Gently, she began to massage it through the fabric of his underclothes, and Fenris felt the satisfied smile on her lips as he gasped against them.

                She seemed to enjoy his reaction, and her movements became more pronounced, stroking back and forth through the thin cloth as she tenderly kept his lips busy with hers. Fenris felt his breath quickening; his heart raced in his chest. Her mouth tasted so good, and her hand; _Maker_ , he had no idea...

                He felt the sensation leave his member and failed to repress a moan as he bucked slightly. She broke the kiss and sat up, once again straddling his torso.

                "Patience," she crooned, "I think you'll like this."

                She began to scoot back until she was more straddling his legs than his waist. Brushing her hair back, she began to manoeuvre his pants down, exposing him to the cool night air. Fenris tensed, watching her worriedly.

                "What are...?"

                "You'll see-" She began, but when she glanced up and saw the anxiety in his eyes, she changed her mind, forcing herself to slow down with a patient smile. "I'm just going to make you feel good. It'll be like what I was doing before. Is that okay?"

                Swallowing, Fenris nodded, knowing full well that his face was flushed and he was already breathing heavy in anticipation. Was this... really happening?

                Slowly, she began to lower down, her head descending towards his groin. For a moment, he simply watched, then his eyes widened.

                "W-Wait!"

                She halted instantly and glanced up at him, a questioning look in her eyes, her lips slightly parted still. He swallowed and mustered what little courage he had left at that point.

                "I..." he began, but felt like words were failing him. Instead, he gave up on his voice entirely, and in one swift move sat up fully, capturing her lips with his again. She stiffened in surprise, but laughed tenderly as he wrapped his arms around her and slowly pulled her back down with him, once again cherishing the feel of those soft lips.

                "I'd... prefer you here." He breathed almost painfully when they finally broke the kiss. He felt his heart flutter madly as she smiled down at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of love and understanding. She _understood_. That alone made his chest constrict in a way that was both pleasurable and painful. He couldn't let her out of his sight. Couldn't risk forgetting who he was with. And that was _okay_.

                "Then here I am." She responded simply, and returned to her previous ministrations. Fenris once again gasped, arching his back as she closed her hand around him and began to stroke; gently at first, coaxing him into it. When she nuzzled into his neck, kissing and sucking, he felt like his mind was about to explode. He moaned throatily, one hand clutching the sheets madly while the other buried itself in her hair, twining with the dark, thick locks.

                "H... Ha-awk..." he gasped, his whole body in complete disarray. "A....Ah-h!"

                He felt his body suddenly seize as she used her free hand to caress up the length of his ear, the mixed pleasure of her stroking and the ravishing of his neck sending him over the edge. He felt his hands clench as he rode out the waves of pleasure, fearing that his heart might actually beat right out of his chest. For an eternity that was actually seconds, he was suspended in a haze of ecstasy, his body in complete pleasure while his mind was still acutely aware of the most important thing. The one thing he had longed for. He could feel the heat of her own skin; the breathlessness of her own words.

                "Fenris?" He heard her voice call his name softly, and a pair of lips gently brushed his own.

                Still breathing hard in the afterglow, he managed to open his eyes and return her gaze. He reached up, his hand shakily brushing the hair away from her face, and he pecked her lips gently. Slowly, she lowered her head, resting her forehead on his. It was such a benign movement, yet at the same time more intimate than he could hope to comprehend. As their breaths began to settle in their chests, he swallowed, a smile touching his own lips.

                "Now..." he began, his hand tracing her hip absently. "... it is your turn."

                He was surprised to feel her lips curve against his as she chuckled.

                "Not tonight." She said, and Fenris drew back a bit, surprised. Did he... do something wrong? Seeing his withdrawal, Hawke's gaze softened, and she leaned forward, her mouth only centimetres from his ear.

                "Today is all yours. My turn can be another night, _if_ you will have me." She purred, and he fought to repress another longing shiver. He felt his own smile touch his tired mouth, and as he wrapped her in his arms she melted into his embrace. He breathed in deeply, her scent once again filling his lungs.  _His Hawke_.

                "I'll hold you to that, _Hawke_." 

*******

_As she left the room as the sun began to flow through the dusty windows, Hawke felt a knot in her stomach. Not one of regret or shame. Never. She had no regrets._

_It was one of pure, bitter anger. She could still see his face, twisted into a painful mixture of fear and hopelessness; like a beaten animal at the mercy of a cruel tormentor. She could see the panic in his eyes when he had finally looked at her; it was almost childlike in its terror. It was heartbreaking; sent sickness searing to her core._

_Hawke felt her eyes darken as she descended the stairs to the ground floor of the mansion, her fists clenching and unclenching subconsciously as the blood pumped through her veins._

_When she got her hands on the monster who Fenris once called 'Master' - and she **would**..._

_... She would make him long for death._


End file.
